


Bring Him Home

by CandyCryptids



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Bodies decay way quicker than I was expecting, Closure, Cute Engagement Shit but I'm crying anyways, Jumpcuts abound between past and future but I tried to keep them real obvious, M/M, Mourning and loss, Murder and mourning, Non graphic descriptions of a corpse, Playing fast and loose with knowledge of Drow Culture, Spoilers for literally all of the Adventure Zone, Wedding bells toll and I cried for all three chapters, cremation, memories of dates and love, post ep 69
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-19 14:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11899920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandyCryptids/pseuds/CandyCryptids
Summary: Brad seeks closureBrian finally comes homeor in other words, TAZ ended and I realized there wasn't enough Magic Brad content, so I'm trying to make my own.





	1. Brad Seeks Out What Was Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy so I haven't written in three hundred years but I love Magic Brad and I wrote this in four days and cried during all of it, so I hope you enjoy!

The world is safe again, the hunger is gone, and everyone knows Everything. Everything Fisher had ever eaten. Everyone knew again, about.. Him. At least to a degree, after he'd been gently removed from the minds of everyone by the tendrils of a otherworldly fish. At least now he could speak his name without it becoming static.

 

Brad stands at the opening of Wave Echo Cave, feeling the weight of standing here more than anything he'd ever carried before. Steps in, slowly, steps halting and cautious. Not a soul had been here since the Bureau had cleaned it out the first time. Maybe for the best. He's not sure he's willing to face down bandits today, not now.  
As he walks, he remembers. The first remarkable meeting they'd had, standing in a dorm suspected of being the source of bugs on the moon base. 

 

“Brian? Could you please help remove this most delightful pet from my arm?” He'd said with utmost calm, not a single drop of sweat forming on his forehead, or a single fear in his very steady heart as a Tarantula had crawled up his bracer, harmless.  
“Ah, I think he likes you! Hold still, Darling, he doesn't mean you any harm, just a moment, come here Bryan, there's a sweet boy,” Brian cooed, coaxing the spider off of Brad's arm and into Brian's hands instead. Safe and sound. Escorted back into a tank specially put together to house him, but not before placing several very light kisses to the creature's abdomen.  
“You uh, you know spiders aren't allowed on-base right?” Brad finally spoke up, adjusting his already well adjusted tie. “It's against protocol, mostly a safety thing, you understand, right? We can help you rehome uh.. Brian?”  
“Bryan, darling, with a Y,” Brian corrected in a sweet song of a voice fluttering long silvery eyelashes. “And Bryan wouldn't hurt a soul! He's my handsome well mannered boy.”  
Brad hesitates, looking down at the relatively clean floor, at his well cared for black dress shoes, and Brian's bare feet- he paints his toenails in purple's and blues, that's adorable- and then back up again. Adjusting his glasses. “I can't just make an exception for everyone, or else before you know it we'll have Dogs on the moon! Dogs, could you imagine the mess?”  
He makes the mistake of meeting Brian's eyes, pleading, with just a hint of moisture, and Brad sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If I let you keep Bryan, you have to promise, he stays here, and only here, no walks on base and no using him to scare your co-workers. If he's discovered, he has to go.”  
Brian lights up like it's Candlenights, his smile illuminating, and he hugs Brad rather abruptly, tightly, “Oh thank you! Thank you, you won't regret this, I promise!”  
He smells like lavender, with a hint of the outdoors after it rains, and Brad can't help but take the quietest inhale as he reciprocates the contact, patting Brian on the back. 

 

The crash of waves brings him back to the present, as a single drop of water falls from a stalactite, into a steaming pool. It smells nothing like lavender here, but there's a familiar earthiness and dew smell that felt like home.  
Mushrooms grew in this cavern, reaching up the cavern walls and casting soft blue-green light, the noise causing them to all collectively shudder as a cloud of spores filled the air, briefly, and then settled again. These mushrooms had been mentioned in the report, if only in passing, as audibly activated. The spores they shook out are toxic if inhaled, though so long as he picked his steps carefully, it should be safe enough.  
Those tres idiot boys probably had trouble here, he can only assume, given their rough and tumble form of teamwork that had nearly gotten them killed at what should have been a fun and friendly camp experience. Yet now everyone knew those original 7 intimately, and how hard they'd worked for a hundred years and then more to save this world.  
It wasn't an excuse for their actions, proud of them though he was. He pauses here, kneeling down at the waters edge and looking at his own reflection, as the rippling water settled.  
He certainly looked different now that the war was over. Silver hairs peppered in black, drawn back in a high ponytail that he'd been growing for so long. A gold chain dangling from his neck, and on the end of it, a gold band that made his chest tighten to look at.  
His thoughts turn inward once more, closing his eyes as he settled down on the damp rock, leaning against a boulder and trying not to think about how much dry cleaning it would take to clean his slacks and polo. 

\--

Despite the nature of their first visit, the neat and tidy way things seemed to have been tied up, Brian still found himself summoned to HR with a simple sticky note on his dorm room door.  
“Please come see me at earliest convenience” the note read, in a professional block handwriting, signed with a flourish of a 'B’. 

Despite whatever nerves he might have had, Brad dispelled them almost instantly with a warm smile and open arms.  
“Brian! Come in, have a seat, do you want some coffee? I hope I hadn't woken you, the sleep and health of our seekers is very important to me- to us, at the Bureau of Balance.” he continues smiling, and the way his tusks stick out from his lower jaw is almost endearing instead of intimidating.  
There's motivational posters tacked up on the walls with sticky tack, cats, and dogs, and even one strange one that looked like the Deals Warlock proclaiming a dislike for Mondays.  
“I just want you to know, you're not in trouble, I just needed to ask you a few questions, because you're the best suited for the task,” Brad speaks up, pouring Brian a cup of coffee before he could even turn him down- tea is preferable, actually.  
“Oh? What is it, Darling?” Brian takes a seat, elbows on the desk and chin resting on the backs of his clasped hands, grinning at the way Brad's dark green cheeks flushed at the harmless nickname. “You know, Madam Director usually speaks to me personally when it's related to the grand relics.”  
“Ah, yes, this is much less serious than that, though it's still important, I ah, I found several spiders in the training hall, and you have such a magnificent way of taking care of them, I was hoping perhaps you could help me relocate them someplace else?” Brad adjusts his already perfectly adjusted tie. And then again. Clearing his throat. “I just don't want anyone to be nervous while they're trying to train, you understand.”  
“Oh of course! They must have hatched early, I'll be absolutely sure they are someplace else by the next morning, you have my word, Darling,” there's that nickname again.  
Wait.  
“D-Did you know about them, Brian??” Brad reaches for his tie, stops, instead drinks from a mug labeled ‘World's okayest boss’. A gift from Candlenights last year.  
“Of course- not! No, not at all. This is a surprise for little old me,” Brian quickly lies, but it doesn't put Brad's nerves any more at ease.

Especially not when, a week later he finds a sizeable cluster of spiders in a less traveled part of the Quad, tucked away in such a way that they wouldn't have been found if not for a frisbee landing too close during a company picnic.  
He keeps his mouth shut, then. 

They discuss it later, over a Dinner Brian had asked him to attend; and he'd gone readily, thinking it was a group experience, only to be startled when he turned up at Fantasy Applebee's for a table for just two. 

He makes a quiet note to tell the Director about his budding relationship, and then crumples it, swallows it whole and mutters some kind of apology to his empty office. He's good at his job. He can keep his bias to himself, do honest work reviews, honest raises and promotions where they're deserved.  
Besides, his co-workers surely appreciate the donuts he brings in the day after Brian officially, truly asked Brad to date him. Or at least, if they minded it, they hadn't commented on it. 

\--

Brad finally gets up from the water’s edge, steeling himself for the rest of the trek in. He hasn't seen anything yet, no dwarven skeletons, no drow skeletons, thank the Gods and Goddesses.  
It's not much further, though, before he sees webbing, old, slashed apart and hanging open like it had once held someone, and didn't anymore. Here, his heart started to race, as he approached the back of the room, where the ground fell away into darkness.  
He stands at the edge of the pit, his heart climbing all the way up into his throat, his stomach trying to join it, clamping a hand over his mouth and stifling a sob nobody was around to hear.  
Down, in the darkness, he could just barely make out a broken shape sprawled on top of a massive spider. Decaying, peaceful. They never even gave him a proper burial. No dirt thrown over his body, no flowers, nothing. Just left there to rot, like a common animal.  
Brad’s knees collapse from under him, hitting the ground heavily, as it hits him all at once again, ripping open wounds he had thought he'd finally healed from. Brian is dead. 

\--

“You know, I've been told to be successful in life, you need to take up one idea, and make it your whole life. Your soul, heart, body and mind, and for me, I thought that was always my work,” Brad dropped down to one knee, taking one of Brian's hands in one of his own while he dug a box out of his vest pocket. “And that I'd never need any other idea, but Brian, you consume my every thought, my every waking moment and every dream, you are my Idea.” He's smiling, so wide, trying not to choke on the words, overwhelmed even as he says them, “Will you marry me?”  
Brian doesn't hesitate in the slightest, the 'YES!’ practically exploding from his mouth, as he yanked Brad up from the floor without waiting for a ring to be slid onto his finger to capture him in a bruising kiss, not minding the way their teeth clacked with their enthusiasm. It worked out well enough, neither of them had to see the other cry with the overwhelming rush of emotions accompanying the question and answer. 

\--

There wasn't time to start planning their ceremony though, before Brian was called Planetside to investigate rumors of the Gauntlets location.  
“Are you sure you've got everything you need, love? You can call me if you need literally anything,” Brad had fussed, while brushing Brian's hair, braiding it into a neat French plait to keep his hands busy.  
“Darling,” Brian laughed, “We've checked and double checked everything, I couldn't be more prepared if I tried.”  
Things fall into comfortable silence, until Brad pressed a kiss on his shoulder, asking quietly, “Are you sure you can resist the thrall of the Relic?”  
“Of course! How could I be charmed by some silly glove, when I have you to come back home to, my love?”  
This, as it so happened, was the last time Brad ever heard from Brian.

\--

Back at the base, Brad didn't knock on the Madame Director's door, didn't wait for a response, merely barged in, eyes still red with shed tears and fingers shaking as he slams both palms on the desk.  
Trembling with uncharacteristic rage, sadness, as he meets the director's eyes and growls out, “They left him in the bottom of a pit!” The tears start to flow again, knuckles whitening with his grip on the mahogany. “We couldn't have had him brought home!? Couldn't have given him a proper send off!?” Brad's voice breaks, as he comes apart for the second time in a day.  
“The love of my life,” he croaks, the rest of his words melting in his throat and pooling in his stomach as he yelled at the painting behind the desk.  
He stiffens when a soft hand touches his back, followed by a quiet, “I'm so sorry, I didn't know.”  
He doesn't turn to look at her, instead taking a deep breath in, collecting himself, straightening back up.  
“No, you were more concerned with our mission than its members, outside of your team.” His voice still shakes, but his tone is cold, with a biting anger underlying the whole of it. “We'd retrieved our- your- your precious relic, and that was.. that was what mattered most. We didn't… Brian was..”  
“Is there something you want to do now..? I can't rewrite the past, much as I'd love to.” Much as she's tried to, before. There's an entire planet now that knows why this is a bad idea. “We can bring him home,” she offers.  
“IT’S A LITTLE LATE FOR DOING THAT, ISN'T IT? About a year too late, don't you think!? You knew he couldn't possibly have resisted the thrall of that F-FUCKING gauntlet, didn't you!?”  
He rounds on her, towering overhead, both hands digging into The Director's collar, hauling her off the floor so he could really look her in the eyes.  
Lucretia's grasp on her staff tightens, ready to protect herself as Brad bellows in her face, teeth bared in a way he did not ever before.  
“It's YOUR FAULT HE'S NOT… he's not..” the anger dissipates, dropping the Director back on her feet as his hands drop down from her clothes. “I'm sorry.” his voice crumbles into a mumble, shoulders hanging slack.  
Silence falls heavy over them both, Lucretia stunned and picking her words, and Brad quietly sobbing into the handkerchief he yanked out of his shirt pocket, while he tries desperately to pull himself back together.  
“I'm.. so sorry, Brad, please, let me.. let me help. We can bring him back here, give him a proper send off.” Lucretia finally speaks, after fixing her robes. “I want to make this right.”  
Brad dries his eyes one last time, looking at Lucretia with a much softer expression than before, nodding numbly, “I'd like that, thank you.”


	2. Brian comes home (and so does Bryan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Ulawan5 for helping me draft this shit and making it look less like someone beat text with a bat and held it up for lunch money. This chapter is shorter than the previous but it's just because it wasn't meant to be that long... Uh, still, hope you enjoy it. Comments are super duper appreciated and encourage me to keep writing more things !!

Within the week, Brad and Lucretia both travel back to Wave Echo Cave together, in silence. This time, there's no reminiscing, or pausing at the hot springs, simply a hike straight back to the far reaches of the cave where Brian and Bryan had died. 

 

With the Madame's magical assistance, it was far easier to bring Brian back up, though Brad had still insisted on climbing down into the pit to help shift the body onto a makeshift stretcher made of lashed together ropes and wood, rather than trying to use magic on his body directly. The spider, Bryan, had actually collapsed in on itself over the time they'd been left, leaving Brian almost sickeningly entombed inside spider carapace. Legs still sprawled at awkward angles. 

There wasn't any way to bring the Spider back in one piece, so once Brian was out, Brad did his best to gather the majority of Bryan into an urn, his heart heavy as he worked quietly through the task. He didn't want to bring Brian home alone, not without his beloved pet, as gigantic as it had grown in the brief time he'd been topside. He'd known Brian for long enough, intimately enough, to recognize the love that there's been between Drow and Spider.

 

It's almost therapeutic to be doing this, like filing paperwork, or fixing his appearance even when nothing was out of place. 

He climbs the rope back up out of the pit that he'd rappelled down with before, looking on at the carefully secured body hovering a few feet off the ground, anchored by a rope. 

 

Brian didn't look a thing like he had in life, his hair and most of his skin having rotted in the time that he'd been left down there. Still in his clothes, ruined by magical blasts that had cracked bone and shredded fabric, but that's all he could tell at this time, looking down at recovered bones. 

His ring, shining gold and set with rubies, though, that still looked the same as the day he'd left, still on his ring finger. Something he'd inherited from his Mother, and then had used to propose to Brian on that night so long ago. It's a kick in the chest to look at, and Lucretia doesn't ask why he looks away, walking alongside the floating sled and keeping his gaze cast ahead. Numb. It didn't matter how long it had been, it felt like the day it happened. 

 

Prestidigitation helped with the smell, and the holes in his clothes burned into them with Magic Missile. There's no mending the bones, but at this point, it was just a relief to be able to know he was safe, in some sick way. He can still see the ghost of his smile in his mind's eye when he looks at the skull of his deceased lover.

 

It's a private funeral anyways. 

 

In all his years, this wasn't a day he'd planned to live to. If he had a loved one, he had planned to die defending them before they were killed, and yet, the option had been stripped from him by fate. And his own co-workers.. not something he could have ever planned for. 

 

\--

 

He still remembers the day he'd gotten the news. A simple Manilla folder dropped on his desk, with “Magic Brian” printed in his own neat block handwriting at the top tab, for his own filing, but with a bright red “DECEASED” stamped across its cover. 

And Brad had calmly gone through the due process for preparing a file for the void fish, to remove all traces of memory of Magic Brian from those not indoctrinated. Or rather, it felt more like he watched himself do it from the other side of his desk. The methodical way he added files to the folder, changed records where they were necessary, dated and signed everything all neat and tidy, created a copy for Bureau private records. 

He watched himself clock out at 5 on the nose, right when he was supposed to, and walk out into the quad. 

Where he rolled up his sleeves, loosened his tie, and systematically dismantled a tree, until his knuckles were raw bleeding, until splinters had sunk into his palms and sweat dripped off his face, his ponytail coming loose and his chest heaving from the effort. Sobbing. 

He took the day after off, spent it seeing a cleric to get his wounds treated, still numb from the inside, out. Within a week he was back at work, like nothing had ever happened, like half of the Bureau hadn't heard the muted yelling of the Orc from the head of HR roaring in a beastial way over the sound of their partying. After all, a grand relic had been destroyed! The first of 7, they should all be so proud. 

They had no clue what Brad could be so upset about. 

 

\--

 

Brad spent an entire day cutting down trees, wanting to give Brian the Orc send-off he deserved. That Brad, by this point, desperately needed. Dozens of trees were felled, and stripped of little branches to use for kindling, then stacked in a growing pile, carefully being built up into a bed of timber, with notches carved into logs to prevent rolling. Brian is laid, carefully, on top of the stack when it reaches three feet, and what they could gather of Bryan is carefully placed in the crook of his arm. 

The Pyre grows, until it's 5 feet tall, and the sun is starting to set. 

 

Lucretia is one of the few to turn up, on such short notice. The rest of the Bureau had previous engagements, or excuses, or simply didn't care. It wasn't a huge issue. Their presence wasn't important to Brad, not really. 

 

He stands, a torch warming his face and his hair braided from the crown of his head all the way down his back, to the end of his hair. 

“We're gathered today, to see off a dear friend, and co-worker, and.. for me, a Fiancé. He was taken from us too soon in his life, and it's only just now we can give him the good bye he deserves.” 

Brad reaches to adjust his tie. He's not wearing one, though, not today. He clears his throat instead. 

“He was a.. a tender man, brimming over with love, for everyone in his life, and a beautiful passion for his hobbies.” He falls silent, looking out into the fading light at the small number of faces that had shown up. Trying to find grounding. His fingers close around the ring hanging from his necklace, and he takes in a shaking breath. “Love is fleeting, and sometimes, it.. ah.. it leaves lasting scars, on our hearts, when it's gone. I. Loved Brian with my entire being, and..” his voice, the very thing he channeled his power through, falters. “And now it's time for us all to show him the way home,” his voice quiets, and then he turns his back on those gathered. 

 

Brian had come to the BoB under less than savory circumstances. He had no job, no friends, no home, after having been rejected by the Queen of the Underdark for taking after her image. Something frowned upon for Male Drow. 

The Queen didn't want him in life, and therefore, cannot have him in Death, either. Not after all that he'd been through. The battles he'd fought, the battles he'd won, and the battle he'd lost. No, for his bravery, for his Love, he gets to feast with the Orc gods and Ancestors that would accept and love him, until he could join him again. 

 

“In Orcish tradition, we send our dead to the afterlife through Flame, so that their spirits may ascend to the heavens, and not be trapped with their broken bodies any longer. Brian, I.. I set you free, with this flame,” he speaks up, as he rounds the four corners of his personally crafted pyre, lighting each, before making sure to plunge the flame deep into the center, ensuring the timbers had caught soundly on fire before letting the torch go. 

 

There's minor burns on the hand he'd thrust in, but it was part of tradition. A lasting mark, for memory. A symbol of loss. A memory surfaces with it.

 

\-- 

 

A memory, of one date out of many, cooking in their tiny dorm together, how he'd accidentally burned that very hand on a hot pan while baking lasagna, having forgotten an oven mitt when he went to save it from burning.

The very sweet way Brian had doted over him, placing sweet kisses on the injury in question while he wrapped it up and rubbed something that smelled worse than their burning dinner onto his injury. It wasn't that major a wound, but the very fact that Brian had cared so much as to go to all the trouble.. 

They'd ended up cuddling on the couch, after picking up Chinese takeout and watching bad movies, though Brian had continuously checked on him, placing little “healing kisses” on him until Brian asked if it still hurt, and Brad had to laugh, and admit that the only thing that hurt was his lips, aching for some of those healing kisses elsewhere.

 

\--

 

Brad steps away from the brewing heat, putting enough distance to keep from burning, facing the now blazing logs and the ocean and the dying sun, and he sings, low in his chest, a heavy rumble like thunder, in Orcish. A Farewell song, to see him off soundly into the afterlife, sung long into the night, long after all the guests had left to share somber drinks in bars, until his voice began to crack under the strain, and the wood collapsed and burned to embers. 

 

He can only hope that when he moves to the astral plane, Brian is still there waiting to welcome him with that familiar warm smile and lilting voice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if there's anything grievously wrong with this I just wanted to push this out before I lost steam for it H a h


	3. Brad Comes Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'all seemed to really want this so I fussed over this for a couple days and now there's this, especially for you !  
> Finally a fucking happy ending right?
> 
> There's death and disconnect from the body but no gore I promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to Tears To Diamonds by Watsky on like basically repeat if you want Chapter #Mood, also

Brad's Death is sudden, and unexpected, following a visit to his home to help settle a dispute between his family and another over borders.

 

His own father had regarded him at dinner the night he arrived, nose scrunched in distaste. Prodding at his arms, at his face. “You're so smooth. Weak. They're going to eat you alive tomorrow.” 

“I’ve been doing this for a long time, Dad, I think I can handle a negotiation,” Brad reassured his father, but that didn't make sleep that night any easier, uneasy dreams plaguing his spotty sleep. What if he was right? He hadn't negotiated with orcs in a long time, they're a much more aggressive race, he should have brought Killian, she'd suplex the guy and the problem would just Go away, as things tend to happen in orc culture.

 

The next day, things went about as well as Brad feared they would. The other side was irritable, claiming that they owned land beyond a river, since over the years the river itself had slowly migrated over, and while there wasn't any hard proof, neither side was willing to concede on borders and property.

Still, it was worth trying the peaceful route first, and Brad sat at the small stone been table across from a charming burly fellow, Ulag. The Skull Splitter. The representative they chose to talk things through for the territory dispute and Brad knows exactly why. The guy could probably snap a tree clean in half with his bare hands.

 

“Now, Ulag? You said that you wanted the territory up to the Stone Wolf River, and then beyond, to the rock on this map here? But that's halfway into our clans hunting grounds, and there's no way we can give up that much, when the river can't have moved more than a couple feet.” Orcish is guttural, deep in the chest and aggressive, and yet, somehow, Brad managed to keep the edge mostly off of it. It's a mistake on his part; strength is respected, negotiations are usually duels. Not talks over maps. He's still not quite sure how he'd talked them into trying this first, though the level of success he had is Questionable, with the Ulag’s Axe still laid across the table in front of him, in extremely easy reach.

Brad has a dagger, the length of his forearm tucked into a sheath at his hip. That's it.

 

“Mmnrhg. Your clan constantly hunts in  _ OUR _ lands anyways, no regard for the boundaries, we want the land you took  _ BACK _ .” Ulag answers, banging on the table with his fist and exhaling through his nose heavily. “This isn't about the smelly mud pit river anymore. It is about HONOR!” 

 

“Settle down, Ulag The Skull Splitter, we agreed to a peaceful talk, now, if you'd like, I can brew us a nice lemongrass tea, and clear our heads, and we can find a nice compromise, can't we?” Brad’s hand rests on the hilt of his blade, face the picture of calm despite the way his pulse started to race while staring down the other.

 

“ **NO!!!** **WE SETTLE THIS LIKE ORCS. TALK TIME IS LONG OVER.** ” Ulag the Skull Splitter bellows, slamming both hands down on the table over the handle of his weapon, grasping it and swinging it up from the table, and back down, into the table, where Brad's hand had just been had he not yanked it out of the way to grab his dagger. 

The table cracks in the middle along the length of the blade.

 

“ **FIGHT ME LIKE A REAL ORC, OR DIE LIKE A RODENT!** ” Brad can feel the spit hit his cheek as Ulag wrenches the axe from the table, and shoves it aside, advancing at a rapid charge towards Brad Bradson The Motivator. Not meant to fight. 

The axe comes at him from the side, and he narrowly dodges, rolling to the side, but there's no room to maneuver from where he is now, holding his dagger out for protection as Ulag readies another swing, a graceful over head drop like from a guillotine that cleaves clean through his pitiful dagger.

 

There's a cracking noise, and Brad goes limp without so much as a whimper.

 

Plunged into a swallowing darkness, impossible to inhale, his head searing, the last words he'd heard still ringing in his ears, echoing, overlapping, it's so much. His face feels so cold, yet there's something hot trickling down over it. Sticky, smelling of iron. Blood..?

He can't breath. He can't move, can't force his limbs to cooperate, his dagger is still in his left hand, he can feel the hilt, leather cording biting into his palm, except that feeling is fading. It's all fading, what little he can feel fading into fuzzy static. 

 

From the darkness, a skeletal hand cuts through the only blackness, grabbing his hand and pulling him upright, muscles and tendons and skin forming over it as it goes. The ringing echoing in his head stops abruptly, the fuzzy wet feeling trickling down his face, past shattered glasses, disappears, his skin feels warm, again. His lungs expand abruptly and he chokes on the sudden rush of oxygen, clinging to the hand that pulled him up as he remembered what it was like to Inhale. The surroundings come into focus, slowly, all muted colors and dimly lit wall sconces.

 

This isn't what he had been wearing- this is too nice, too clean, too.. white. A crisp white billowing sleeved shirt cinched at the wrists with royal purple brocade and fastened shut with glittering ruby jewels. Who's hand is he holding..? 

 

**_The_ ** Barry Bluejeans, actually, looking at him with a quiet reassuring smile while Brad regained his bearings. The ringing is back, but it's far less intrusive, a well bodied ring instead of a high pitched constant wail, and he's not sure it's even in his head at this point.

“Hey, you uh, feel better?” Barry asks, and Brad can only stare at him in awe, and confusion, at the Lich who had never stopped looking for his loved one when she disappeared for ten years, the elf who he loved for more than a hundred years. 

He looks down at the rest of his clothes, a purple brocade vest to match his wrists, a bright red tie around his throat, and white pants, with purple embroidery swirling down the outside legs. It's.. beautiful, but nothing's he's ever owned. Only seen in pictures drawn up by his Fiancé. Shortly before he'd been called down to look for the Gauntlet, and never came back. 

 

“Aw, come on now, it's a happy day, let's dry your eyes, he's waiting for you through that door, when you're ready,” Barry interrupts his thoughts, and Brad touches his own cheeks, barely aware of the tears that had started falling, feeling the wet streaks with his fingertips.  

“W-wait, he? He's-?” Brad doesn't finish his sentence as he stumbles towards the door, not bothering to dry his eyes and instead throwing the door open, to an almost blinding amount of light compared to the darkness he'd just been in. 

 

His heart stops as he takes in the scene. A carpet marks the path straight ahead, to where someone he hadn't seen in so long stood, looking breath taking, and as gorgeous as ever. A floor length white gown, with a flowing train that faded into deep purple, fanned out prettily down the steps he stood at the top of, silk so delicate looking it had to have been woven by spiders cascading over silver hair, and over his face, matching lace cinched around his neck and connected to the bust of the gown. 

 

“Glad you finally decided to join us, Darling!” Brian calls cheerfully.

 

Protocols and rules be damned. Brad practically sprints down the aisle, nearly trips climbing the stairs by twos, sweeping Brian into twirling hug, face buried into his neck.

 

Finally, finally. Together. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Edit! If you want to find me on Tumblr it's. Also Candycryptids.  
> 
> 
> there's a real good chance I'm gonna post a series of drabbles I've been working on while trying to write this so there's uh, a chance for more rarepair stuff.


End file.
